


band-aids [don't fix bulletholes]

by leothequeenn



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, its kind of based off of the movie too like whenever theyre coming back to camp, since thats whenever like......clarisse/tyson actually happen so, this was written after watching that horrible sea of monsters movie, tyson is clumsy lol, w/e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leothequeenn/pseuds/leothequeenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You didn’t cut up your knees or anything?” She asked before kind of cringing, because why would she care? Why should she care? He shook her head at her question. Not believing him, Clarisse huffed and scrunched his pant legs up to see his knees, and she sighed whenever there was blood oozing from a cut below his right kneecap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	band-aids [don't fix bulletholes]

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of set with the (horrible) sea of monsters movie, whenever they're coming back to camp. tyson is clumsy!! :)

Clarisse was pissed. More than usual, at least, because not only had Percy Jackson and his crew butted in on _her_ quest, but they had the audacity to have great plans that wouldn’t get them killed. Well, Clarisse and her crew had almost gotten killed more than three times - and almost digested - but then it was Percy who came around to save the day. Ugh, that pissed her off. Honestly, could she handle Jackson’s crew hanging around, trying to find the fleece on _her_ quest?

Oh, _Hades_ no.

It was bad enough having them join her to get the fleece. The trip back was even more so because Clarisse actually fucking felt incompetent next to the great Percy Jackson, who got the fleece and was going to rescue Thalia’s tree. He was the one that got them to the fleece, on the island anyway. He was the one that got his crew involved and had to be the one needed to get them out of the stomach of the thing that swallowed them whole. But the three still butted in on her quest. So, she made sure to tell Percy that, tell Annabeth that, and tell that terrible Cyclops that too.

Because she was pissed.

Percy would always answer with some bullshit response, Annabeth’s answer would make the older girl question if they all just had too much sexual tension in between them, and Tyson’s answer, well…

Clarisse never knew what to say to Tyson’s responses. With the others, it was easy to be cold because they would give her some superficial boosting Jackson’s ego, like, “well, I got the fleece, so” or “you wouldn’t have been able to do it without Percy” but Tyson’s was... different.

The stupid idiot would just smile, despite Clarisse’s harshness, and go, “yeah, but I’m glad Brother found you because that way, we were all together!”

And honestly, it made the brunette’s stomach twist up like she was getting sick. Her chest would start to hurt because that stupid idiot couldn’t even take offense when he needed to. Ever when she was trying to show that they had been a burden (which, they weren’t, they were just obnoxiously good at what they did) and ruined her quest even if they helped her get the fleece. The only thing Clarisse could respond to Tyson’s overenthusiastic answer was, “whatever,” and a shove as she walked past him, purposely bumping into his arm.

It was honestly a matter of time before she would just start tossing people overboard -- which she was willing to do. She’d hope she’d be able to do it soon because her body needed to let out some anger. It was like her body was screaming _just grab a Jackson, they’ll swim!_ Percy could swim, he’d survive, he’d be fine. He was at the top of her list. Annabeth, not so much, she was further away from the top, but it was kind of pointless to toss her in because her boyfriend would just jump in and get her. So, Annabeth was out of the equation and Clarisse didn’t really care.

Tyson, though, she could push off the ship and he’d apologize to her, he’d _thank_ her before swimming around with the fish or some shit. Percy would probably make more of a commotion than Tyson would. The cyclops would probably think Clarisse meant to push him in so he could swim, or something.

Maybe she should throw him overboard. That would be funny, right?

The boat itself took a sharp turn to the side and there was a small thud that interrupted Clarisse’s train of thought. She glanced up from her bed as she heard more thuds and a dull ‘ugh’ that echoed after the bangs. She got up off of her bed and walked over, outside of her bunker and saw Tyson at the bottom of the stairs. She laughed since it was funny to hear that outside of her door and it was even funnier to see that it was Tyson.

“Gods, can you not even walk properly?” It was the first thing that had come out of her mouth, and Tyson unscrambled his limbs. He rubbed a shoulder as he shot a smile up at her. She happened to notice that his knuckles were bleeding, he had a small cut on his forehead too, and that wasn’t the greatest thing to have because those zombies were really attracted to blood. She laughed again, even feeling a bit unnerved as time went on, but she still managed to make fun of him. “You’re even clumsier than your brother.”

There was a small frown on Tyson’s face and Clarisse tried to swallow down any sense of guilt, since _hey_ , he was the one that fell down the stairs. Of course, there was a second after he got up that the boat took a sharp turn (or maybe it slammed on its engine, Clarisse couldn’t tell) and the cyclops fell onto her, sending them both to the ground.

The girl tried to ignore how fast her heart started to beat whenever she realized how close he was to her, but that made her even angrier. Tyson muttered, “I don’t like boats,” as he scrambled to get up, off of her. Apparently his blood had managed to get on her face, because in a moment he was around her again, asking her “are you okay?”

Honestly, her fucking head pounded because she was the one that was slammed into the concrete flooring, but whatever. But, instead of telling him that like she should’ve, she nodded her head and hissed out, “what about you? You’re the one that’s bleeding. Come on, we have to clean it up.”

A second of confusion flashed across his face before he pressed his hand to his forehead, where the cut was. Clarisse swatted his hand away.

“Are you really that dumb? Don’t touch it. Come on.” She stood up, ignoring how shaky she felt on the damn ship (honestly, she should be used to it) and she made her way into what she called the ‘nurse Clarisse’s office’ because she was the only fucking one who would fix herself up whenever she got hurt. Half of these dumb zombies didn’t even know what a band-aid was or what it did. They probably hadn’t even been around blood without going crazy, and Clarisse didn’t feel like testing that out repeatedly. “Tyson,” _weird_ , it felt weird saying his name instead of Jackson, but whatever, “come here.” There was a table that he could sit on, so even he couldn’t screw that up. The cyclops hesitantly showed his face in the doorway, but he’s subservient nevertheless because Clarisse gestured to the table and he sat down on it. The girl then closed the door (didn’t want those damn zombies to come down there) and she opened up a box that was near the table, inspecting the items inside. It was just a simple first-aid kit with some ambrosia added, but she only grabbed band-aids and some antibiotic ointment since she doubted he needed ambrosia. Oh Hades, if anyone needed ambrosia it was her.

“So how long have you been doing this kind of stuff? You’re like the Apollo kids back at the camp,” Tyson asked, trying to make small-talk, but Clarisse wasn’t in the mood for small-talk. She grabbed the things she needed, along with a damp washcloth, and stepped back over to the Cyclops, glaring up at him. It was quiet as she began to clean up the cut.

However, she started to mindlessly talk as she worked, wiping the excess blood that had been dripping from the cut on his forehead before moving to put some ointment on it. “I don’t know how you manage to get hurt all the time.” She rubbed the ointment in, remembering that she had washed her hands before doing this, and she had quickly taped some gauze onto the cut. She blinked as she stepped back to look at him, her fingers grazing his. “Does it hurt anywhere else, besides your knuckles?”

She started to work on his bleeding knuckles, contemplating whether or not to put some ointment on them and leave it, but she figured the idiot would touch the cuts and it would be hell. So, did she trust him not to touch them? He hadn’t touched his forehead since she’d cleaned it up. Well, that was also because she covered it with gauze. Whatever. She decided on putting band-aids on the cuts since there weren’t that many cuts in the first place.

“It’s weird, I didn’t think you’d be the one to put band-aids and gauze on a Cyclops,” Tyson muttered as he lifted his other hand up to feel the gauze she had taped to his forehead. Clarisse swatted that hand away and continued working on his knuckles.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she mumbled, bandaging up the rest of his bloody knuckles.

“Oh!” Tyson gave her a grin and Clarisse shrugged it off. She didn’t have time for him to be smiling at her. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You didn’t cut up your knees or anything?” She asked before kind of cringing, because why would she care? Why _should_ she care? He shook her head at her question. Not believing him, Clarisse huffed and scrunched his pant legs up to see his knees, and she sighed whenever there was blood oozing from a cut below his right kneecap.

“I don’t know how you can be a Cyclops and manage to cut up every damn part of your body. Seriously, it’s ridiculous.”

A laugh filled the room they were in, but it wasn’t a typical laugh she heard from him. This one was different, a little sad, but she tried not to convince herself it was. “I’m just really clumsy I guess, that’s why no one really lets me do anything.”

Clarisse faltered a bit before wiping up the blood from his knee harshly, not wanting him to know she actually cringed hearing that. Honestly, that must’ve sucked, though. Not being able to do anything? She’s known the feeling a few times. She would fight to get the opportunity to do things if people didn’t let her. But he just let them walk all over him like it was the normal thing to do. Gods. She hated him for making her feel like that. As she worked the ointment onto a Q-tip, since it’d be easier and her hands were dirty, she heard him say her name. It was weird since he _rarely_ did that. She hummed to let him know he could continue what he was going to say, even if she weren’t looking at him, but she’ll still listen -- or half-listen since there was so much shit going on inside of her head.

“Thank you,” Tyson said and she glanced up at him, confused, dazed, angry and clearly off-guard. Why should he thank her? She was just doing something that anyone else would’ve -- especially if they would’ve known that the zombies go a bit crazy at the smell of blood. They’re like sharks, seriously.

She blinked. “For what?” The question was asked genuinely, but that was maybe because she was _genuinely_ _confused_. She’s made fun of him countless times and just because she’s showing compassion once, he takes that as a sign to gush up to her? But of course, that’s how Tyson is. She thought back to however she felt whenever he was holding her hand on the ride (before getting attacked by that ugly Cyclops -- _eww_ ). He still wanted comfort, he still wanted to show that someone was still there for him. Even whenever she told him off he still ended up grabbing her hand, which at that point she didn’t care.

“For taking the time to do this, even though you probably didn’t want to,” Tyson grinned at her and she looked away to disinfect the cut on his knee, but that didn’t stop her from feeling her face heat up. Damn him. She put a band-aid on his knee.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I’m being serious.”

Clarisse looked up at him, making her blush even harder the way that stupid idiot smiled at her. “And so am I. Just because I’m putting band-aids on you doesn’t automatically mean we’re the best friends.” Tyson grinned at her again and Clarisse took that as an initiative to keep working on inspecting him, looking for more cuts. When she found one on his ankle, she kept repeating the cleaning process until she sensed him leaning down. She felt him press a kiss on her forehead, and immediately, she grabbed his lower leg and bent it to the side sharply, ignoring how he winced. “What did I tell you?”

“I’m sorry! You looked cute! I couldn’t help it!” His grip was tight on the edge of the table, and Clarisse rolled her eyes as she let go of his leg, letting it go back into the correct position. After bandaging his ankle, she stepped back a bit and inspected him again for more cuts. When she decided he was fine, she turned away from him and threw away the trash from the band-aids before putting the ointment back in the box and cleaning off the rag. There was the sound of Tyson hopping off of the table and joining her side in an instant, despite how much wincing occurred.

“Clarisse, don’t be mad.”

The girl laughed. “Don’t be mad? I make fun of you endlessly and you take it as an invitation to kiss me?” Clarisse hissed, glancing over her shoulder at him as she worked and washed the blood out of the rag. Honestly, she had done this so many times, it became natural to her. Tyson grinned at her whenever he nodded his head at her response, and the girl felt terrible. She hated this. But, before she could stop it from coming out of her mouth, she muttered, “‘m sorry.”

 Tyson’s grin grew as Clarisse wrung out the washcloth, placing it on a rack to dry before she shoved his shoulder.

“Jerk,” she mumbled, giving him a half-smirk in response. Maybe she won’t push him overboard like she was thinking.

“Also, you know you didn’t necessarily have to bandage me up, right? I could’ve jumped into the water and been fine.” Tyson said as he started to walk out of the room, and Clarisse stopped washing her hands to stare at herself in the mirror.

“You better run!” She growled out after a moment and took off toward him, effectively chasing him until she managed to catch him, and he just pulled her into a hug. “I might as well push you overboard.”

“You won’t.”

 _Maybe_.

**Author's Note:**

> i really miss tyson/clarisse. hmm.


End file.
